The Nightwatchman
by ChocolateIsMyDrug
Summary: Set after 2.10. The Sheriff reappears only after Guy and Marian tie the knot, and now they are forced to live with their decision and each other. Marian is sure she could never love Guy, but things don't quite turn out as she expects them to... Guy/Marian


**A/N:** So I finally did end up writing my Guy/Marian one-shot! It's set after episode 2.10, _Walkabout._ AU, obviously.

Please review with any comments or criticism – I had quite a bit of trouble writing Robin convincingly, so I hope it isn't too bad. Hope you enjoy!

*

**The Nightwatchman**

*

I

The first night of their married lives they spent in the castle: she was picking listlessly at her food while he was pretending to listen to the Sheriff rant on about his precious pact, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over to her every few seconds. They were both miserable. She, because she was married to him, and he, because he had seen her face fall at the Sheriff's reappearance, just a few seconds too late, after the ring was already on her finger.

That had told him more than a punch in the face at the altar could (_it was only because he had lied about the king, it was only her misguided loyalty to the monarch, it wasn't him_). It was him. He could make no such excuses for her now – to her being his wife was literally a fate worse than death. He drained his third goblet of wine.

That night as she headed towards her bedchamber, she could not do anything but let him follow her. Despite the mental preparation of months of believing she would end up married to him not so long ago, she was still unprepared when he began to undo the clasps on his leather jacket. His eyes sadly reproached her as he took in the fear in her face which she could not hide. That night, as they both lay together and he simply held her in his arms, mixed somewhere in her relief was also a twinge of guilt.

*

II

The second night she spent alone. She was in Locksley, ironically the place she'd always imagined coming to as a bride. He was staying overnight at the castle, due to some early morning business for the Sheriff. _Safe for one more night_, she thought.

She started as she heard a slight rustling at the window; then her heart rate began to increase and her mouth ran dry as Robin entered the room. She would not cry. Tonight he had none of his usual cocky one-liners to open the conversation. He looked as if he was battling with several emotions at once, and she could decipher some of them as they flashed over his face: anger, hurt, despair. 'How could you?' he finally said. She would _not _cry.

She didn't know whether to hit him or begin sobbing into his shirt. 'I thought we were all going to die, Robin,' she found herself saying angrily, the urge to hit winning out. 'He came back to fight with me instead of escaping – I couldn't have said no.'

Robin's tone was accusatory as he threw her own words back at her. 'Everything is a choice, Marian.'

Except... it _wasn't._ Some things happened, and nobody could choose them. Despite all her resolutions not to cry, hot tears rolled down her cheeks and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Instantly Robin was by her side and his arms were around her. As she leaned into his embrace, he stroked her hair. 'It's alright, Marian. Don't worry,' he whispered soothingly. 'I've got a plan.'

Marian shook her head against his chest, trying to suppress the sob that was welling up in her throat. 'No, Robin. No more plans. There is no way out of this. I am married to Guy for the rest of our lives.'

A ghost of Robin's old grin came across his face. 'Exactly. I'll take care of Gisborne.' He mimed releasing an arrow.

Marian looked up at him sharply then, something very like horror coming across her face. 'No,' she said, before she was even aware she was speaking. 'You can't.' For all that she disliked Guy heartily sometimes, she didn't wish him _dead_. 'What happened to killing only when necessary?'

Robin groaned. 'Come on, Marian! He's dead anyway when King Richard returns.' Seeing that she was still unconvinced, he took her by the shoulders, his face very serious. 'Marian, this is _Gisborne _– he's a murderer and a traitor, remember?'

She shook his hands off, irritated at his tone as he spoke to her – as if she were a child! 'And if you kill him, you will be just as bad as him,' she said, surprising even herself with the vehemence in her voice. There was a stunned silence, and then she sighed, suddenly exhausted. 'Robin, please. Just leave.'

For a second he looked hurt, but then his face hardened. 'Very well, my lady,' he said coldly. 'If you really want to stay married to him, be my guest.' Without another word he slipped out through the window, the fluttering curtain the only indication that he had ever been there.

That night, without Robin to watch over her or Guy to hold her, Marian cried herself to sleep.

*

III

The third night, Guy asked her hesitantly if he could touch her, his eyes vulnerable to the rejection he was sure was forthcoming. They were married now – Marian had no choice but to say yes. There was not a trace of his usual smirk; instead the soft smile which shone out of his eyes and changed the whole look of his face almost made it seem worth it.

He began to kiss her in the most gentle way imaginable, feather-light and then lingering – it was an experience completely different to the other times he'd kissed her, dark, hungry, possessive. He was taking his time now, and she found that somehow, contrary to all her expectations, his ministrations were actually quite pleasurable.

Then suddenly Guy groaned into her mouth and she stumbled backwards onto the bed under his weight. He slumped over her and she was horrified to see the arrow embedded in his shoulder. _Robin._ She had never been so angry.

A few frantic hours later, after she had finished tending to Guy and had made sure that he was in a feverish sleep, she rummaged through her clothes-chest until she had found what she was looking for: the engagement ring Robin had given to her, which she had treasured up until now. Taking it in her hand, for a moment she held it tightly in her fist. Then, gritting her teeth, she flung it out the window as far as she could.

*

IV

The fourth night was a harrowing one. She had spent the day tending to an unconscious Guy whose fever still raged, listening to the physician's grave concerns about the patient and forcing herself to make polite small talk to the Sheriff when he visited with an extraordinarily small basket of fruit, seeming to have come for the sole purpose of idly wondering whether or not his lieutenant would survive.

For the first time in living memory, she longed to be alone with Guy. And yet as night fell and her wish was granted, all she could do was clasp his hand and mop at his forehead with a warm, wet cloth and pray that he would survive. She did not want him to die – at least, not in _this _way, shot in the back by a cowardly enemy, unable to defend himself.

For the first time since Marian of Knighton married Guy of Gisborne, she made a choice: the choice to do everything in her power to help her husband recover.

*

V, VI, VII, VIII

The next several nights passed in much the same way, with a tireless Marian sitting by her husband's bedside, tending to his needs and trying to keep his fever down. He had not regained consciousness since he had been shot, and had been living on a diet of mainly broth which Marian had patiently been feeding to him.

It was strange seeing such a powerful man so dependent on her.

'Mother,' he muttered. She started and looked at him carefully; he was still asleep, but she could see his brow furrow. 'No, let me go – I have to help her – all my fault...' His feeble attempts to move petered out as whatever visions he had been seeing faded away.

This was another new thing: these days every now and again he would speak out in his delirium, sometimes intelligible, sometimes not, but always, always sounding lost and vulnerable. Marian was beginning to get the idea that her statement to Robin that Guy was a man deprived of love had perhaps hit closer to home than she had anticipated.

She hesitated for a moment, and then began to stroke his hair. The muscles in his face relaxed and his frown melted away. She could not quite quell the small bubble of warmth which welled up inside her.

*

IX

There had been no trace of Robin since the night Guy had been injured, and Marian didn't know whether to be angry that he hadn't apologised or relieved that he had stayed away. So on the ninth night when she heard a rustling at the window, she was not sure how to react.

Then she heard a knock at the window. She smiled wryly, the tension in her shoulders immediately easing. Robin had never seen fit to knock before barging in; it was probably one of the other members of his gang. 'Come in,' she called out softly.

Her surmise turned out to be correct as the Saracen woman Djaq cautiously entered the room.

'What do you want?' Nights of watching in perpetual anxiety had not disposed Marian to civility, and a friend of Robin's was at the moment hardly likely to do so. Then she saw the small bag the woman carried, presumably with her equipment and medicines. Marian raised an eyebrow. 'Robin won't be very happy with you.'

Djaq inclined her head slightly as she began to take out her materials in a business-like manner. 'I would not be here if Robin did not wish it,' she said shortly.

Now Marian was bursting with curiosity, but she managed to affect a cool tone. 'Robin really should make up his mind; does he want Guy dead, or does he not?'

Djaq began to unravel Guy's bandages and examined the wound with a critical eye before beginning to clean it with the cloth and water by his bedside. For a moment she raised her head from her occupation to look Marian in the eye. 'He does regret his actions, Marian. Do not judge him harshly.'

Marian nodded slowly, swallowing the sarcastic reply she had been formulating. 'Then he knows I have made my choice,' she said quietly.

Djaq smiled, a little sadly. 'Yes, my lady.' The distancing in the address did not escape Marian's notice; clearly, loyalty to the leader had won out. 'He has accepted it with his head, if not yet his heart.' She returned her full attention to the nasty-smelling green ointment she was dabbing on the wound; not a word more on the subject passed between them.

Some time later, as she turned to leave, Marian stopped her. 'Thank you, Djaq,' she said sincerely. Djaq smiled in acknowledgement, and would have left then if Marian had not begun to speak once more. 'Could you tell Robin... tell him...' _What? _she asked herself. Sorry? No. 'Tell him thank you, from me.'

Djaq looked at her for one moment longer. 'I will, Marian,' she said, and the next moment she was gone and Marian returned to Guy, whose fever seemed to have reduced.

*

X

On the tenth night, Guy opened his eyes, and Marian cursed her own for filling with tears and blurring her vision, rendering her unable to see his face clearly, when for the first time in days he was regarding her with full consciousness.

'Marian,' he said hoarsely, and with some effort. She placed a hand gently over his mouth, indicating that he should not exert himself.

That night, instead of the terrors of his childhood, he went to sleep with a smile on his lips, and Marian, joining him under the covers, slept peacefully for the first time in a long time.

*

XXXXVI

The people of Nottingham were still oppressed by the Sheriff and his men, peasants were still needlessly punished and executed, the people continued to struggle to pay their taxes and Robin Hood and his men continued to do what they could to help.

But although on the surface things seemed unchanged, there was an undeniable difference. The Sheriff to his frustration found his lieutenant growing increasingly indifferent to the promise of power and wealth, and the people of Locksley were beginning to find that their leather-clad landlord could actually almost be a generous and kind man, when the mood struck him (which was oftener these days than they had ever dared hope).

Robin Hood grew more active than ever before, particularly in Locksley, where he seemed to feel safest, and the increase in his activity was first matched and then outdone by the Nightwatchman, who now ventured out at least three times a week to deliver food, medicines and clothes to the needy. Hope was kindled in the people's hearts at the sight of his approach, made distinctive by his new face mask of black leather.

On the forty-sixth night, Marian returned home after her usual rounds. Guy kept his back resolutely turned as she removed the evidence of her outing. 'I didn't see anything,' he said, as he had said all the other nights.

She walked up to him slowly, and then placing a hand on his shoulder, she kissed him on the cheek, lips tingling pleasantly from his stubble. 'It is safe to see now,' she said softly.

And so he did, first with his eyes, then his hands and finally his lips. And as she smiled and leaned into the familiar warmth of his touch, she could not help feeling absurdly glad that the Sheriff had a bad habit of sleepwalking.

*


End file.
